Around and around we go, where we stop no one knows.
HMS Excalibur CVX-11 - High Earth Orbit
"How is he doctor?" Commander Maguire inquired standing just outside the glass double doors that separated the rest of the ship from the medical bay.
Doctor Sevano checked her chart as she slipped her pen from a pocket to make some notes, "honestly Commander, his knee is a mess. Even the best reconstructive surgery would take months, and my facilities just aren't up to that kind of surgical task." She shook her head, "he'll be lucky to walk again."
Captain Maguire rubbed his chin tiredly, he'd spent the past five hours settling the new air wing, VF-54 onto the hangar deck, while Ben had been doing his best to quiet down the simmering complaints from a large number of the crew who didn't like the idea of Americans on their ship. A potentially trying situation with the old man up and about, but with him laid up, there was little else the rest of them could do but try to weather the storm.
Though Ben was undoubtedly the Executive Officer, there had been a deference of respect for Commander Maguire, and Maguire hoped that the respect he had earned would transfer to the men under his command.
Maguire nodded to the doctor as he set off back towards the bridge, his defacto status aboard the Excalibur was one of respect. The crew treated him politely but they didn't go out of their way to assist him. Even when he had supervised the repairs to the ships systems, he'd still found many of the crew looking to their superior officers for confirmation of his orders.
He found Ben on the bridge, the man pale and drawn, another bout with some infection or another. And Maguire prayed it wasn't too serious, he didn't fancy the idea of both the Captain and the Exec being laid up together at the same time. The chain of command had never seemed that stable aboard the ship, and were it to fall to Lieutenant Worth or the Kaynin Octavius, who knows what would happen to his newly acquired fighters.
"Situation?" Maguire asked walking into the darkened CIC, staring at the holographic maps that were centred upon the Japan crisis.
"Globally?" Ben asked looking up from the far side of the table, "with the Chinese aggression and the stance America has adopted it seems that war is inevitable between China and the US, not a pleasant thought for you as your forces are already stretched far too thin trying to fortify the Americas from Europe."
Ben zoomed the map out and gestured to Canada, "the Canadian government, which has up until now been neutral in this conflict, has just elected a new parliament, a pro-American minority government. They are attempting to reverse their neutrality stance in a rather radical fashion. Prime Minister Lachlan has enacted the war measures act and is in turn asking the United States to honour its mutual defence treaties and station American troops at Canadian military bases." Ben shook his head, "they are afraid that the Sino-Russian alliance will mean that Russia will invade them across the Pole or the Bearing Straights. Capture Canada and there is a foothold scenario that will ultimately prove disastrous for the United States."
Maguire chewed his lip, "the Canadian's won't take that well, they're a very independent people, to have Americans on their soil, and to police the streets with the army..."
"There has already been extensive rioting in Quebec," Ben acknowledged calling up the intercepted news feeds, "it appears racial tensions are escalating in the wake of the expected alliance with the United States. There are similar reports arising in Toronto and Vancouver. The government in Ottawa is using this as a primary excuse to warrant increased military involvement."
"Idiots," Maguire shook his head, "you can't quell public fears about military fascism by increasing military presence..."
"It has long been a cycle that many governments have failed to comprehend," Ben folded his arms, "the Canadian crisis will escalate I am afraid, and develop into a full scale occupation of Canada by American forces, and then things will really start to get bad."
"And elsewhere?" Maguire asked.
"A political assassination in Sarajevo has seen a military coup in the Balkan states, President Pashek's government seems to have literally fallen apart over night," Ben rotated the map again, "troops loyal to an old friend of ours, Madame VonGrippen have gained control."
"Madame VonGrippen?" Maguire balked, "I'm sorry, who?"
"A political opportunist," Ben confessed, "she has an axe to grind when it comes to the Admiral... but I had no idea she was positioned this strategically. How she came to power is anyone's guess, probably through Chinese and Russian backing, meaning that the Chinese are putting pressure on the Europeans, their timing could not be better, with much of the European military forces arrayed to hold the Eastern Front and Africa, suddenly the Europeans have a major new threat in their own back garden. One that could stand to threaten their hold over the Mediterranean as well as mainland Europe." He shifted the map to show military deployments, "the Europeans have mobilized the remainder of their national guards in an effort to deal with the Balkan threat..." the units deployed and moved into positions, "and the European central command has recalled General Merkht from the Eastern Front to take personal command of the relief forces the United Kingdom is dispatching to help secure Brussels."
Maguire paused, "what am I watching here?" he asked quietly.
"Simply, sir," Ben replied, "you are watching the end of the world as you knew it. Agitation, nationalism and opportunism have seized control of crucial elements of the planet. And the men in power are loosing control."
"You are saying things are going to escalate?" Maguire asked.
Ben frowned as he walked around the situation table, looking over at Maguire's grim features, "there is an old saying, first you have to put your house to flame in order to build a better one."
"You mean that there is good that can come out of this?" Maguire gestured.
"Unification is beginning, nations are realizing that they cannot exist alone in the wake of this war. They are allying, but unlike the Second World War, there are not two sides, there are three. And the way this war is being fought, it is moving towards a state of perpetual war. War fuels an economy, it powers creativity and it drives people with patriotic pride."
"Until they become tired of it," Maguire stated, "take the Vietnamese war..."
"Or Korea," Ben nodded, "humanity has come to learn that it doesn't have to tolerate a protracted war, and that is when change happens."
"There is a change coming then?" Maguire asked curiously.
"And we are the catalyst," Ben answered, looking back towards the rear bank of elevators, "like it or not, House VonGrippen is a symbol of resistance, of a new way of doing things. Mark my words, we will change the world."
* * *
Special Agent Maya was conveyed under military escort to the nearest secure facility. Their colonel, a veteran of Africa, had accepted the National Guard training assignment after a piece of shrapnel had lodged itself in the small of his back taking him out of the front lines. At least he was permitted, in his own small way, a chance to continue to serve his country, unlike so many of the boys that had served in Africa.
Maya had repeated what he'd learned, and had immediately been bounced up the colonel's chain of command until he was on a direct line with the Secretary of Defence. That conversation had not progressed well, Morgan had been loathe to hear what Maya had to say, citing any number of excuses why he should disregard the information Maya had.
Any request to make a report to an FBI director, or even to the Attorney-General had been met by a gruff reminder that, for the time being, Maya was in Military custody.
Of course Maya had no evidence to support his claim, the computer along with everyone else who had read the reports had been destroyed by the UAV. It was literally Maya's word against the physical evidence in Japan. And a Chinese nuclear missile presented a pretty damning case for war.
"...I understand your arguments Mister Secretary, but under the circumstances, with so many lives at stake, shouldn't the President at least be advised that he may be making a mistake?" Maya pleaded.
"There is no mistake," Morgan snapped, "Chinese troop movements show that they are making best possible speed for Japan, and without any kind of evidence to support your story, it remains just that, a fanciful story."
"At least let me speak to the President," Maya urged, "he should at least consider the possibility..."
"The answer remains no Special Agent Maya," Morgan reached out and severed the satellite link.
"Damn," Maya cursed resting his chin on his crossed arms and staring at the door for a long time. He'd been deposited in that room, and left to just talk to one person after another, working his way through the hierarchy at the Pentagon only to run head first into a dead end. He cursed his luck... and then he remembered his cell phone.
He pulled it out and scrolled through the numbers, he wasn't under arrest, no one had taken anything away from him. So why couldn't he place a call? He remembered back two years when he had been working through the National Convention, and tracing the would-be assassin who had attacked the motorcade. He'd stored the number for then Senator Macdonald's constituency office. He waited while it rang through, speaking to one of the aides there, fortunately to save costs the new Senator had simply taken over the old constituency office. And within minutes after explaining who he was, he was connected through to the White House switchboard.
He coughed nervously as he explained who he was again, and that he had a priority message for the President. And again he waited, beginning to sweat as he looked up at the doors, at any moment the Colonel could return and put a stop to the call. There was a pause, "please hold for the Vice-President," the secretary announced through the line.
Maya knew that it was his name alone that had allowed him to get through the layers of bureaucracy at the White House, some one recognizing it. He may not have reached the Oval Office, but America's number two couldn't be that bad.
"I'm afraid I don't have much time Agent Maya," the Vice-President announced through the line, "what can I do for you."
Maya took a deep calming breath and started, "you can't go to war with China, at lest not until you know this information. I have reason to believe that the missile fired into Tokyo was not authorized by the Chinese government, but instead by an alien faction seeking to manipulate a war."
There was another long pause, "I see," Markus's words were clipped, "that is important information Agent Maya, of vital importance to this nation, especially in these trying times. Sit tight, I'll have to make some calls."
"Thank you mister Vice-President," Agent Maya smiled into the phone.
"No," Markus said evenly, "thank you for contacting me first."
* * *
It took hours, Maya having fallen asleep in the uncomfortable chair, waking to the sound of murmured voices out in the hall. A few moments later the doors opened on a tall man with dark hair and a cropped beard. He inclined his head formally.
"Agent Maya I presume?" the Afrikaans accent narrowed his words to razor points and Maya suddenly had a looming feeling that something was very wrong.
"Yes," he said, standing slowly, his hand inching towards his weapon holster.
"There is no need for violence Agent Maya," the man remarked, lifting his hand and plucking Maya off of the floor, holding him telekinetically, "violence has only ever begotten one thing, Agent Maya..."
"Go to hell," Maya spat out, wrestling against his invisible bonds, trying to move that last inch, that last inch that would have his hand upon his PKD.
Rikard chuckled, "I fear you will get there long before I will." He drew the small black crystal gripped firmly in his other hand as he drew upon it. He used the direct connection to the Peligian Bloodroot. Channelling its power and using it to agitate the air around Maya till it supercharged, and in a flash of lightening, and an almighty crack of thunder, Agent Maya was dead.
"A waste," Rikard murmured checking his watch, as he turned his back on the charred corpse. He had a plane to catch that was leaving for Narita, Japan in under an hour. And he couldn't afford to be late.
* * *
"I'm still waiting on that direct connection to the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court," Markus ordered as he descended to the waiting limo that would convey him and the Secretary of State into the heart of Washington."
"I want to know what I'm supposed to do," the Solicitor General sounded strained through the phone, "we have two hours left and the President refuses to budge, some FBI agent out of San Francisco claims that the Chinese didn't fire that nuke."
"I heard that," Markus said climbing in and sitting down, looking at Doctor Morvanor as the Limo sped off, "but there is nothing I can do without first consulting with the Chief Justice, Maggie needs to clarify any move we make. I don't want to screw this up." He shifted uneasily in the backseat of the car, "I don't know how long it is going to take for us to get there, even with a Police escort, we still may not make it in time."
He hung up the phone and looked across at Doctor Morvanor, "I am going to ask you now, how far are you willing to take this?"
The Secretary of State looked at Markus, weighing him carefully, "I could ask what is in this for me? I am already the Secretary of State..."
Markus smiled tightly, ambition, like everything else in Washington, lurked everywhere.
"The Vice-Presidency..." Markus began.
Morvanor shook his head, "I want the Americas. You're poised on the cusp of taking over the United States, and I know that your ambition doesn't stop there. You see a much greater prize. I want to be there with you," Morvanor folded his arms, "I want a House Morvanor."
"Aspirations of nobility," Markus replied thoughtfully, "and House Morvanor will comprise?"
"The combined United Canadian, Mexican and American nations." Morvanor replied.
"A sizable land mass," Markus nodded, "I am going to need a victory from you, something that will catapult you into the limelight as a significant hero in a dark time. A man of peace and wisdom..." Markus smiled, "I want you to facilitate the Confederation of Canada and the United States."
"One nation," Morvanor nodded, "I am going to need the support of the Pentagon, and Congress."
"Secretary Morgan will be out of the picture after this," Markus nodded thoughtfully, "you will have everything you need." He held up a finger, "but just so I am clear, I'll make you the Highlord Morvanor, but your loyalty is mine."
"Confederation will prove where my loyalty lies," Morvanor smiled in return, "A wise man once said to me, be aware of the change in the wind, so that you will always have it behind you."
Markus slid out his phone, "I need to speak to Maggie, you find the Secretaries for Commerce and Treasury."
* * *
Queen Beatrice had been busy since her return to Edinburgh, the defacto Capital of the United Kingdom after the destruction of London. For the eldest daughter of the former Duke of York, the crown had passed to her after the bombing. In the wake of such a disaster there had been a resurgence of national pride, spearheaded by Beatrice.
Like one of her ancestors George the Fifth during the Blitz, it had been vital that the English people know that their new Queen shared in their hardships. Her popularity had grown as she had appeared on the airwaves, urging calm while the Scottish Parliament took the helm of the country until a new election could be called.
Seven years of chaos, of new political faces that the people of England didn't know or trust being elected to a new parliament. The new Prime Minister, James Lynch, seemed aptly named, as he had persecuted angry rhetoric urging revenge and retaliation against the United States, and closer ties to the Europeans. But the pro- war attitudes, and the anger over the initial attack had faded after seven years. But the loyalty the British felt to their Queen had never wavered. It was that loyalty she counted on now.
She took her place in an old Victorian winged chair. A white satin dress on, it's sash clean and clear, bearing the order of the British Empire, the crown upon her head weighing heavy as she stared at the cameras, readying to recite her speech from memory.
As the light went on, and the director nodded to her, she steeled herself, looking imperious while at the same time concerned she faced the camera.
"Good evening," she lifted her chin and looked right into the lens, and around the country news papers lowered, and people sat up as the emergency broadcast cut through their news reports and shows, suddenly acutely aware that their Queen was addressing them, "I am speaking to you from Edinburgh Castle, in our nations capital. I appear before you burdened by a duty that stems from the crisis in which we all find ourselves."
"After the attack on London, I appeared before you to urge calm. That we needed to come together as a nation, to be united behind your elected leadership, and to place your trust in a system of government that has, until now, held strong."
* * *
Prime Minister Lynch, sitting in his office preparing to enjoy his lunch, looked up with a start at his television, dropping his sandwich, as the doors to his office burst open. British Soldiers in combat gear, wielding assault rifles stormed into his office, lowering them at him.
* * *
"But the government has failed you, the people. They have persecuted a war of retaliation, begetting blood with yet more blood. Turning the children of our nation into tools of war. And I could not stand by and watch. I could not allow yet more death to be perpetuated in the name of a single disaster."
"We are not a nation built upon revenge, but a nation built upon hope."
* * *
The troops spilled from the doors of the Scottish Parliament, troops of the Queen's own guard, easily overpowering the Parliamentary guard, as outside tanks rolled up the main concourse, turning their weapons towards the great doors.
Scottish Parliamentarians stood in their seats as they were rounded up and ushered away by the heavily armed troops, demanding indignantly that they couldn't do that. That there would be consequences to those actions and that whoever was behind it would pay.
* * *
"And so, it is my heavy burden to dissolve Parliament on this day. To remove those responsible for this war of capitulation to European will before they plunge us all into total darkness." She paused, "this is not an action I take lightly, nor is it one I have rushed into. But rather one I choose to take to ensure that you, my people, are protected, and that your wishes are observed."
* * *
The French President, the current President of the European Union, stood from behind his desk and uttered a string of curses in French as he grabbed for his phone. Aides scurried too and fro like frightened mice as they ran to carry out his string of barked orders.
While the Queen's broadcast ended and the British news anchors rushed to make a series of reports, stemming from the arrests of the British Parliament, and the recall of British forces from the front lines of the European fronts.
* * *
General Merkht sat in a Landrover, bounding through the German military base, rounding the main airfield where British troops were preparing to board heavy transport planes to return to the United Kingdom. Cursing her luck.
She'd needed the British forces to deal with the Balkans, and to reinforce should Madame VonGrippen decide to use that as an opportunity to attack. If he did, they could stand too lose everything East of Poland before they could mount any kind of defence. A couple of days and everything that Europe had won since the end of the Cold War would be lost to a mad Korean and his Russian lap dogs.
She sipped coffee out of her canteen, swilling it around her mouth as she desperately tried to think of a way, any way, for her to retain the British. But their Queen had seized control of their country. A bleeding heart liberal with flowers in her hair and a heart filled with stupid notions that the Sino-Russians and that Bitch VonGrippen gave a damn.
It would take at least a day for the British to assemble for their airlift, transports were already landing inside of just a few hours, and Merkht watched the planes round the apron, opening their great ramps as Tanks rolled off.
Rolled off?
That wasn't right, the British were supposed to be loading, not unloading more tanks... She stood up in the passenger seat of her Landrover, the wind whipped her peaked cap from her head, but she ignored it as she stared in shock at the distinctive red berets melting into the crowds of troops. The SAS... What the hell were the SAS doing in Germany? Why tanks? Was it all an elaborate ploy to through the Sino-Russian Alliance off track?
She jumped down into the passenger seat and motioned for her driver to take her around to where the British brigadier was overseeing the retreat from a small podium, a number of his Lieutenant's around him with clipboards making notes.
The brigadier rolled his eyes as he noted the German general climbing the podium towards him, a little girl playing war. He twitched his moustache as he turned to her, "I don't have time..."
"Make it," Merkht ordered, "unless the British have pulled out of the mutual defence pact I still outrank you brigadier, so you are going to answer some questions, why are you unloading tanks, and what are the SAS doing here?"
"They are here on my orders," A young woman wearing a field marshal's insignia on her combat fatigues, and an SAS beret on her head climbed the podium.
Merkht gasped as she recognized the Queen of England, despite how the other young woman was dressed there was no hiding her regal bearing. Merkht offered a salute, "ma'am, I wasn't informed of your arrival..." "You wouldn't have," Beatrice replied, "but I was hoping to meet you. You have been given command of the British Forces by the European High Command have you not?"
"I have," Merkht nodded.
"And you have a battalion of Kaynin as well?" Beatrice inquired.
Merkht glanced at the brigadier and back at the Queen, "yes your highness, with the current disposition of forces and the withdrawal of the English forces, it was deemed appropriate to activate a second battalion of Kaynin."
Beatrice nodded, looking up as a dropship bearing the VonGrippen markings swept down out of the clouds, curling like an insect on it's rotating boosters as it angled towards one of the helicopter landing pads that were free off to the side of the apron, the hatches opening as a small troop of soldiers descended wearing VonGrippen patches and carrying pulse weaponry jogged down the ramp and were ushered towards the Podium.
"You're timing, Alpha, is impeccable." Beatrice called down to the leader of the small Kaynin force, Octavius from his nametape on his DPMs.
Octavius climbed the steps and saluted the Queen as the dropship rocketed skywards again, curving about as it shot back towards orbit. "Highlord VonGrippen's compliments ma'am."
Merkht looked down at the young faced Kaynin, "Alpha?"
"I am the leader of the free Kaynin First Nation," Octavius responded. "the Kaynin under your command are my people. And since I don't recognize European sovereignty over my people, I have come to free them."
"What?" Merkht gaped, her enhanced GN-2 mind processing what she was being told, recognizing danger when she felt it. She was heavily outnumbered, outranked and even if she could do significant damage with her own powers, she was still no match for the sheer level of firepower around her.
Beatrice set her hand on Merkht's arm, "I am going to restore the European Union Presidency to its rightful holder, it is not right that the French have held it for seven years. You know this..."
Merkht shook her head, "I can't..."
"You are a free mind," Octavius added. "What is best for Europe? What is best for Germany? You are not strong as divided as you are."
Merkht folded her arms, "I will not be party to treason."
Beatrice nodded to the troops around her, and Octavius relieved the general of her pistol, "I can't let you go, but we can't leave you here. You will have to come with us." She motioned as a pair of soldiers took the general and showed her down to her Landrover, replacing the driver with a British Soldier while the SAS and the newly arrived Tanks, mounted their trucks and Landrovers, Beatrice climbing into hers at the head of the column. The roll out order was given as they began their trek towards Brussels.
Merkht sat in her seat, trying to think as she watched the Kaynin Alpha being sped towards the Kaynin barracks. It smelled like a revolution, one that would succeed given the lack of significant forces behind the European lines. She could remain loyal to her foster nation and to the European government that had overstayed it's mandate, or she could join Queen Beatrice.
She folded her arms, still a decisive piece, once clear of the base she could disassemble even a British SAS battalion by herself. Armoured support or not. But the question became whether she should or not.